


God Help Me, Part 6

by ErinGayle



Series: God Help Me [6]
Category: Jojo Rabbit (2019)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinGayle/pseuds/ErinGayle
Summary: Advent in Bavaria is beautiful.  The glowing markts.  The scent of gluwein and almonds roasted in sugar and spice.  Eating some wursts for dinner with friends in the gently falling snow, but ending up in a restaurant for a schnitzel or a pork knuckel anyway.  Carols.  Happy people.Not in 1944.
Relationships: Freddy Finkel/Captain Klenzendorf, Rosie Betzler/Captain Klenzendorf
Series: God Help Me [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819291
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Friday, December 1

###  Friday, December 1

The soft, timid knocking barely registered for Karl. However, the creaking door and slightly louder sing-song, “Maa-maaa, it’s almost 8 oo’clo-ock. Are you aaa-way-aayke?” had Rosie bolt upright in bed.

“JoJo, I’m completely naked!”

The door slammed shut.

Karl’s eyes flew open. The barest bit of sunlight shown through the joints of the shutters. “Holy Christ. I didn’t set the alarm,” he softly exclaimed.

Rosie was out of bed. “You just hold still,” she ordered in a whisper. She was pulling on her robe when the door started to open again. “Jojo! I’m still getting dressed! Go downstairs!”

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Then do that and go downstairs!” Rosie listened for the water to turn on in the bathroom. She turned to Karl, speaking softly. “I’ll get dressed and get him out of here. Then you wait five minutes. Go out the back. There’s an extra key hanging there. I’ll get it back from you this afternoon.”

Karl nodded and got out of bed. He pulled on his long underwear and trousers as he watched Rosie dress. She wore a simple outfit to speed herself along. She did have to sit down and take some time to brush and curl her hair. Karl sat on the edge of the bed pulling on his boots while she put on her makeup. When she was ready, she came back to Karl who was about to button his _feldbluse_. She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him.

“This has been the nicest morning I’ve had in ages.”

Karl smiled. “The one your kid nearly walks in on us?”

“The one that was normal.” She hugged Karl as tightly as she could. “I’ll see you this afternoon. The boiler’s been acting up, so I may be otherwise occupied at three. I’ll call.”

Karl kissed her cheek. “You’re really beautiful today, Rosie.”

Rosie smiled at him and winked before slipping out of the room. Karl sat down in the chair to wait, sighing at how comfortable this life could be. He could live like this, except that his eye would wander. He had no idea how Rosie would react to his lovers now that they were both older, and he would have a family to protect from the Gestapo. He silently told himself not to let these fantasies cloud his judgement. He needed to protect himself and Freddie first. He could be Rosie’s dearest friend and lover without marrying her or assuming Paul’s place as Jojo’s father. Because Paul Betzler was coming home.

Karl had already taken a Pervitin washed down with a generous measure of whiskey. Now he had a horrible, vibrating headache as he tried to make sense of conflicting directives. He’d like to just close the office and lay down for the weekend.

“Hey, Captain K.”

Karl looked to his left. “Johannes Betzler, what can I do for you?”

“Can I ask you a question? About Jews?”

Rolling his eyes was too painful. “Oh, God. What?”

“Well Jews control all the money, and Fraulein Rahm says it’s because they have extra big noses and can smell gold and diamonds.”

Karl could only stare. “I don’t think it works that way,” he finally said. “I have to tell you, Jojo, I had a friend who used to own a business in Berlin. Everyone he ever had to deal with at a bank, Protestants. Every damned, parsimonious, pfennig-pinching, money grubbing last one of them. And, I think we can agree that Protestants are not Jews.”

Jojo nodded. He thought Karl looked both over tired with red, sunken eyes, and over alert as his one functioning pupil was very narrow today. Karl sighed. “Hey, can you run down to the pharmacy and get some aspirin for me? I have a hell of a headache.”

“Sure. My mother said the same thing this morning. She actually overslept.”

Karl tried to be surprised. “Yeah? Must be the wind.” He stood up and dug around in his pockets for some money. As he pulled out the contents, his rosary fell on his desk.

“What’s that?” Jojo asked, pointing to the black and white beads with a silver cross and medal. 

“That’s a rosary. It helps Catholics keep track of their prayers. You can look at it. Damn it, I know I had some change.”

“How does it work?” Jojo picked up the rosary and looked at the large white Our Father beads carved as skulls.

“You didn’t learn your rosary in Catechism class? Doesn’t your mother take you to church?” For such a bad Catholic, Karl’s reproachful tone surprised him.

“Just Christmas and Easter. Why are the big beads white skulls?”

Karl finally opened his wallet and pulled out ten Reichsmarks. “That is a memento mori rosary. My grandfather carved it from the keys of a blown up piano in France in the War of 1870. Each skull was a friend of his who was killed. He carved their initials in the tops.”

Jojo looked at the dates engraved on the cross: 1870-1871 and 1914-1917. “Who had it in the Great War?”

Karl repacked his pockets. “My father. He died in Belgium in 1917.”

Jojo hastily pushed the rosary back toward Karl. “My father is in Italy. He’s coming home when the war is over.”

Karl nodded. “Most men survive wars.” He held out the ten Reichsmarks.

Jojo pocketed the money and started to leave. “Captain K,” he said turning around. “Who are you going to give your rosary to? You don’t have any kids.”

Karl weakly smiled. “There’s always hope someone will have me, even if I do only have one good eye.” He picked up the rosary and slipped it back into the pocket where he kept it.

Freddie drifted into the office, watching Jojo over his shoulder. “You think his father is alive, sir?”

“Well, if Herr Betzler deserted, Rosie would be in a camp. If he’d been recorded dead, there would have been a notification. If he was alive, he’d write. If he were a POW, the DRC would have made a notification and pay would be stopped. So, I think it is most possible that Herr Betzler disappeared in the fog of battle. He is either alive and hiding, or he’s dead in an unmarked or unregistered grave. I give more credence to the latter. Although she’s still being paid. That’s what I don’t get.”

Freddie grimaced. “Some finance sergeant is going to get his ass kicked for that one day.” 

When Jojo returned from the pharmacy, he found Karl with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. “Captain K, I got your aspirin. And, your change.”

Karl lifted his head. For a moment the world wriggled. “Thanks, Jojo.” He opened the aspirin and washed them down with some whiskey.

Jojo nodded. He waited a moment before asking, “Can I ask you a question?”

Karl let a groaning sigh escape his lips. “Is it about Jews?”

“No.”

“Thank, God. Sure. What’s your question?” Karl saw the way Jojo’s gaze dropped to the floor. He hoped whatever this question was, it wasn’t about his and Rosie’s affair.

“If your father died at the front, how did you get his rosary?”

Karl sighed. Rosie believed Paul was coming home because she didn’t want to imagine life without him. Jojo believed because of Rosie absolute faith, but even the faithful questioned. “Well, when a soldier dies, we pack up his personal things and send them back to the family. My father’s commander made sure that happened.” Karl could not mention that his father was a well-known colonel from an esteemed line of Tyrolian-Bavarian grafs.

“No one has sent anything of my father’s,” Jojo said quietly. 

“Hopefully, because he is still using it.” Karl motioned for Jojo to come closer and put his arm around the boy’s shoulders when he did. “I remember how it felt when I was told my father was dead. I felt hollow, and that if I fell over, I might shatter like glass. And, I was so angry with everybody: the French, the British, the Belgians--here and in the Congo, the Germans, the Kaiser, my mother for telling me not to cry, my friends because their fathers were still alive. If you feel sad or angry because you don’t know, it’s ok.”

Jojo could only nod, and Karl could see the tears almost slipping out of the boy’s eyes. He pulled out one of his white handkerchiefs and blotted away the tears.

Rosie arrived late to find the office nearly empty. Gerti Rahm had gone home, and Freddie was finishing up some filing. “Heil Hitler, Freddie.”

Freddie looked up from his work. “Heil Hitler, Frau Betzler. Captain’s got a hell of a headache today.”

“Well, at least you have a warm building. I spent the last two hours waiting to hear if our boiler was fixed.” Rosie noticed something different about Freddie, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Freddie, what’s changed about you?”

Freddie laughed. “I paid a barber to cut my hair. Captain does an OK job, but…”

“It looks good. Special occasion?”

“I have a date with one of Gerti’s cousins. Captain K asked her to set me up.” Freddie hoped his smile looked sincere. He’d felt furious, betrayed, abandoned, and afraid when Gerti excitedly told him one of her cousins wanted to go out with him.

Rosie gasped. “You must be very careful about the Rahm family. They’re like rabbits. Rabbits that look like people. Half the town is related to the Rahms.”

“I don’t under—”

“Gerti left school and got married at sixteen. Her mother was a Rahm, and so is her husband. Her first baby was a single. Second pregnancy was twins. Third was a single. Gerti has one older sister, a set of twin older brothers, she’s a twin, and three little sisters. Rabbits.”

Karl came into the office from upstairs. “What about rabbits?”

“I’m telling Freddie to avoid having sex with a Rahm cousin at all costs, unless he wants to start his own village.”

Karl stood between Freddie and Rosie, his hands on his hips. “Just take some condoms, Finkle. Frau Betzler, shall we compare the children as you know them and as I know them?” Together he and Rosie walked into his office and sat down, leaving Freddie shocked that Karl could so casually dismiss a lover having sex with someone else.

Karl looked down at this open ledger. Today was not a day for detailed work.

“If it’s any consolation, I also have a terrible headache.”

Karl held out his small aspirin bottle.

“I’d rather just drink.”

At that moment, Freddie popped into view. “I’m leaving now.”

Karl looked up and winked, with his bad eye. “Have a good evening. Do you have your keys?”

Rosie smiled at Freddie. “Do you have your condoms?”

Freddie blushed and pulled his keys and a pack of condoms from his pockets. He left Karl and Rosie about to share a drink and locked up on his way out. Outside on the street, Freddie stopped and looked up at the golden windows of Karl’s office. Sighing, he resigned himself to having to make out with a girl.

Rosie sat herself in Karl’s lap. He handed her a whiskey glass. “To Freddie,” Rosie said.

Karl laughed. “God help him.” They each drank a bit, and then Karl set his glass on the desk. “Speaking of condoms,” Karl started as he ran his hands down Rosie’s slender arms and across her flat belly.

Rosie leaned back a bit so she could look Karl in the eye. “I am not pregnant.” 

Karl reached for his glass. “I just wanted to ask because we haven’t been using anything.”

“I have avoided pregnancy for years by using a cervical cap, and I was having a lot more sex back then than I am today.” Rosie finished off her whiskey. “So, with Freddie out, how will you ever feed yourself?”

“I am perfectly capable of cooking myself supper or walking over to the _ratskeller_. But, I’ll probably just have some cheese and beer here.”

“Do you want to come home with me?” Rosie ran her hand over his hair.

Karl considered it for a moment. It was a fantastical and almost foreign thought: walking home, somewhere distant from his office, having a drink in front of a fireplace while reading the newspaper, sitting down at a table covered by a cloth, talking about the mundanity of the day. For a moment it was also so enticing. Karl rubbed his hand on the small of Rosie’s back. “No. I need to show some penance to Freddie. He’s usually upset when I come back from spending the night with you.”

“Does he know it’s me?”

Karl swallowed the last of his whiskey and poured himself more. “No, and he doesn’t need to.”

Rosie cuddled a little closer to Karl. “He’s sweet. I see why you like him.”

“He also gets the job done in combat.”

“So, when did the two of you….know?” How two gay men discovered each other was something Rosie had always wondered about. In a gay club or cabaret, one could be fairly certain, but just knowing someone? Karl had never been able to explain it to her.

Karl shook his head. “If I am not going to talk to him about you, then I am not going to talk to you about him. I will tell you that he was assigned to me about two years ago as my company clerk and driver. He pulled me out of the rubble in Stalingrad and the scorched fields of Kursk. He saved my life even though he was shot in the leg and arm. And, he’s kept me from blowing my brains out more than once.” Karl took a long drink of whiskey. “He accepts how he is way more than I ever have. I hope this date goes well tonight. He’s never dated a girl before.”

“Never?”

“Never.” 

“A Rahm cousin might be overwhelming,” Rosie softly mused. 

Karl had one arm around Rosie’s back and one over her hips. He could smell the perfume she had dabbed on her neck that morning while he watched her get ready for the day. He laid his head on her shoulder as she leaned her head against his. Rosie’s hand settled on his neck, her other on his shoulder. “This is what I love about women,” Karl whispered, closing his eyes. “Their smell and how smooth and soft they are.”

“Men aren’t ever smooth and soft?”

“Only gay Waffen-SS.” Karl deeply inhaled Rosie’s scent. 

Rosie didn’t move, but she wanted to. She wanted to lean back sharply and ask what nonsense Karl was spouting. “Gay SS?” she asked incredulously.

He smiled up at her. “There are a surprising number of gay Nazis. The softest and smoothest are the SS. They must shave or wax off their body hair or something because no adult male has an ass as smooth as them.”

“You’ve…”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well, they are terrifyingly striking in those black uniforms.”

“Absolute assholes every last one. Most would serve the world better as pig fodder.”

Rosie kissed Karl’s forehead. “I have to go, _liebling_. You’re sure you don’t want to come for dinner?”

“I’ll stay here and fantasize about gay SS,” he said with a lazy smile.

Rosie hugged him. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Ride me hard and put me up wet,” Karl joked.

“You’d like that.” Rosie tilted Karl’s face upward. She brushed her thumb over his lips, and he parted them. He caught her thumb with his tongue and briefly sucked it into his mouth. Rosie pulled her thumb back, and Karl tried to kiss it again. He was barely successful and felt her damp thumb caress his cheek. Rosie kissed Karl, flittering her tongue across his palate. 

Karl held her more tightly. For a moment he thought about taking her upstairs, but awful memories of the time she had found him with a lover stopped him. He couldn’t go through that again, especially with Freddie and especially in these times. He kissed her, pulling his lips just far enough away that he could still feel the warmth of her skin. 

Rosie looked down at Karl. She could feel his heart beating. He both wanted and feared his want. She kissed his forehead, holding her lips against him. “And, now I really do have to go, _liebling_ ,” she whispered as she leaned back in his arms.

Karl took a deep breath and then drank the rest of the whiskey it seemed like he had just poured a few minutes ago. “I’ll walk you downstairs.” 

Freddie opened the front doors and locked them just as the church bells were ringing eleven. He slumped against the door to catch his breath. He didn’t think he would ever get away from those girls. Gerti’s cousin Hilde had brought along two of her girlfriends. What he had thought would be an intimate evening in a corner table of a stube turned into a galivanting race around town to other bars and houses. He was unsure if he’d consumed the entirety of a single beer all night. As he walked up to the third floor, he checked all the doors. Karl’s paranoia created a habit for Freddie.

Karl was still awake waiting for Freddie. He had gotten worried when Freddie wasn’t home by ten and spent the last hour nervously checking his pocket watch. Freddie opened the apartment door to see Karl, wearing his silky pajamas, in the worn leather club chair calmly reading a book with a glass of whiskey on the broad arm.

“Freddie, how’d it go?” Karl closed the unread book and stood up with the whiskey in his hand. He kissed Freddie on the cheek, and Freddie returned it. 

Freddie unbuttoned his _feldbluse_ as he went to the kitchen. “I was dragged around town. Do we have any beer?” He looked in the corner and found the rack with a few beers left. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

Freddie brought the beer back to the two club chairs and sat down. He opened the beer then took a long drink. “Hilde is nineteen.”

Karl sat down as well. “And?”

Freddie looked over at Karl as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Her sole ambition in life is to earn a Mother’s Cross.”

“Well, at least she’s interested in sex.” Karl wanted to be encouraging. If Freddie had another romantic interest, even a platonic interest, Karl hoped it would alleviate some of the stress he was beginning to feel about balancing his life between Freddie and Rosie and between his homosexuality and his buried desire for a socially acceptable companion. 

“First class.” Freddie took another long swig of beer.

“Holy Mother of God.” Karl took a drink as well. A First Class Mother’s Cross required eight children.

“Her friend Tekla, however, she was why it took me so long to get home.”

Karl leaned forward. “And?”

Freddie pulled his collar down, exposing a mouth sized purple bruise. “Did she bite me?”

Karl burst out laughing then left his chair. He sat on the arm of Freddie’s chair and looked carefully at Freddie’s neck. “She didn’t break the skin.” 

Freddie was glad to have Karl’s fingers on his neck and not Tekla’s. “If there’s a girl in this town who needs a man, it’s her. We were at someone’s house; I have no idea whose. I went looking to relieve myself. Tekla corners me in the kitchen and next thing I know, I’m sitting on the kitchen table, she’s got my neck in her mouth, her legs around my waist, and her hand….Christ. I didn’t think I was going to get out of there.”

Karl could not stop smiling and could barely conceal his giggling. “You could do worse than an eighteen year old girl desperate to fuck you.”

“Or anything.” Freddie rolled his eyes. He caught Karl around the neck and kissed him. “I’ve got better,” he said with a smile and a tap on Karl’s nose. He leaned back in the chair and drank more of his beer.

“So how did it end?”

Freddie squirmed uncomfortably. “I untangled myself from her and said that it was too late to start anything intimate. And, she grabbed me and shoved her tongue down my throat the entire time I was trying to walk to the door. It was insane.”

Karl good naturedly shrugged. “Sounds like an eighteen year old.”

“She’s twenty.”

“Did you like her enough to want to see her again?”

Freddie sighed. “I guess. I just feel bad leading her on.”

Karl patted Freddie’s hair. “Good. You have some compassion.”

“But, isn’t it wrong to pretend to love someone just to protect yourself?”

Karl had never struggled with the idea of pretending to love someone because he actively avoided loving others. He took Freddie’s hands in his. “Freddie, no matter who wins this war, the law isn’t going to change. How we feel about each other will still be a crime. Openly dating a man? Living with a man like a husband and wife? That’s never going to happen, and it’s likely to get you arrested if not killed. You can just madly date women the rest of your life while having quiet affairs with other men. You can marry a woman who knows and tolerates your affairs with men as long as she gets everything she wants to include children. Or, you date and maybe even marry a lesbian. Then the two of you can have affairs while looking like a normal couple. But, you have to look after the girl first and foremost.”

Karl was painfully smiling as he cleared his throat. “I broke my Schatzie’s heart. I watched her crumble into a million sparkling pieces when I told her I was gay, and I would never consign her to a marriage like that. Then, she gathered up as many of those pieces as she could and stayed with me, to protect me from the fascists who tried to bash my head in on a regular basis and my own hedonism and because she still loved me. But, when she met a man who could not only love her but have her as the only love in his life, she married him. I gave her away at their wedding, my beautiful, darling Schatzie, because he made her so happy. I was friends with them. I was their child’s godfather.”

Freddie sat very still. He hardly dared to breathe. As he saw the tears brimming over Karl’s eyelashes, he wanted to hold Karl as tightly as possible and tell him this was all going to be ok.

Karl continued, barely able to speak for the tightness in his throat. “And, if she walked in that door today, told me her husband was gone, and that she needed me to be the man in her life, I would go.” Karl couldn’t hold back the guilty tears anymore. “I would fight through Hell for her because I still love her, and I would still eventually betray that love. She was the last person I told I loved. I wanted to rip my own heart out when I realized I could never forsake also loving men. Even for her.” Karl finally looked at Freddie through a veil of tears. “Loving her is the single regret of my life.”

“You’re still in love with her?” Freddie whispered in astonishment. Silently standing up and putting his arms around Karl, he pressed Karl’s wet teary, face to his chest. “I love you, Karl. Even if we don’t end this war together, I will always love you. And, I’m not leaving you. I’ve pulled your ass out of enough shit of yours, others, and God’s making.” Freddie made Karl look up at him. “You wouldn’t have survived without me.” He wiped the last few tears from Karl’s cheeks. “And, you can’t order me not to love you.”

Karl shook his head and tried to move away from Freddie but couldn’t escape his embrace. “It’s not fair to you, Freddie. Neither you nor anyone else will ever have my whole heart.”

Freddie held Karl more securely. “I can live with that for now.”


	2. Sunday, December 3

###  Sunday, December 3

Karl tapped at Rosie’s back door a second time. Usually she was right there waiting for him. Even though he had on most of his Eastern Front gear, he was freezing from the wind. The door opened, and he gratefully stepped in. “I had just gone down in the cellar. There’s something wrong with the furnace,” Rosie whispered.

Karl nodded. “Let me go down there and look.”

Rosie reached for the cellar door’s handle, when she heard another door open. “Papa? You’re home.”

Karl froze. The only lights on came from the upstairs hall. His balaclava hid most of his face, and he hoped the shadow from the visor on his hat hid his eye. “I’m just a dream, JoJo. Go back to bed.” He tried to be a passable imitation of Paul.

“You’re not home?”

“No. I’m still in Italy. You take care of your Mama, and I’ll be home when the war is over.”

Rosie stepped out from behind Karl. “Go back to bed, JoJo.” She kissed Jojo and went into his room with him, closing the door behind her. 

Karl carefully climbed down the dark, narrow stairs to the cellar. Rosie had left on the bare bulb. He looked over her octopus-like coal fired boiler and saw the fire was out. He relit it, made sure there was enough coal in the burner, and was going back upstairs when shapes in the dark caught his eye. Curious, he walked over to the tarped boxes. He expected to see a box or two of soap on top of old furniture. He did not expect to find a fully stocked spirits shop. Rosie had cases of whiskey, gin, vodka, wine—good wine. Karl sighed. She’d been through a deprivation he couldn’t imagine after the last war. She might have a horde, but she knew intimately what it was to want. He understood her never wanting to go through that again. He replaced the tarp and went back upstairs.

Rosie was waiting for him in the hall. “Maybe I shouldn’t stay tonight,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “He’s asleep. Did you find what was wrong with the heat?”

“Fire went out. I relit it.” Karl stepped into the kitchen and set a carton of eggs and a bag of potatoes and parsnips on the table. He never said anything about the food he brought over, and neither did Rosie. Karl dreaded Rosie thinking he was somehow compensating her, but he felt he had to try to take care of her somehow despite the alleged secrecy of their affair. He let Rosie take his hand and followed her upstairs, where he took a quick and tepid bath. 

Rosie was sitting in the reading chair, her feet outstretched toward the edge of the bed and wearing a sheer light blue gown when Karl appeared in her room, wrapped in only a towel. He saw his uniform on the valet stand. Rosie rose from the chair and crossed the room to Karl, who opened his arms to her. He took her round the waist and a hand in his and began to slow dance with her. Rosie laid her head on his shoulder. “I miss dancing with Paul.”

“Paul is a very lucky man,” Karl said as he slowly twirled Rosie. “I let him steal my Schatzie.”

Rosie lifted her head and kissed Karl then gently pulled him to the edge of the bed. She unwrapped the towel from his hips. Karl sat down on the bed and looked up at Rosie looking down at him. He lightly rubbed his thumbs over her pale nipples under the blue chiffon. The gown was held together with tiny round blue buttons. He undid the first button and kissed the bare skin between her breasts. Rosie looked down and smiled as Karl slowly kissed his way down her belly undoing the tiny buttons. Rosie didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling him the buttons were decorative and never meant to be undone. Karl was on his knees kissing her beneath her navel. Rosie shrugged her shoulders and the gown fell in the floor. 

With his arm around the back of her hips, Karl maneuvered Rosie onto the bed. He was still kneeling on the floor and easily prompted her to part her knees. He kissed her inner thighs and gently stroked his fingers up and down on her labia. He pressed on the mons with the heel of his hand and his fingers continued to stroke down on the outer edge of the labia and up on the inner lips. He heard Rosie sigh and felt her hand on his cheek he kissed her palm. His fingers were damp now. He turned his hand to play her clitoris with his thumb and to slip two fingers into her. He curled his fingers upward and pressed down and around with his thumb, catching the thick cord he could feel between his hand’s pressure and the pubic bone. 

Karl gently kissed his way across her thigh. For a moment he released the pressure on Rosie clit, then teased it with his tongue. He caught the nubbin of flesh between his teeth as her hips pressed upward. His mouth sucked and his tongue flittered the clitoris, while his fingers continued to thrust and curl against her from the inside. Rosie’s hand was in Karl’s hair, her other hand flailed about until Karl caught it. He twined his fingers with hers and held her hand down. She was breathing faster and louder. Her feet were pressing down on his hips. She half sighed and half groaned. 

When her hips finally settled back to the bed, Karl stood up and rolled Rosie onto her stomach. Rosie dragged a pillow under her and got her knees on the bed as Karl pulled her hips up to him. He knelt on the bed and pulled her warm, wet flesh over him. His hands slid up her flanks to her ribs and then underneath to catch her swinging breasts. He rhythmically squeezed her nipples tightly between his fingers. He dragged his wet cheeks over her back. Rosie held onto the pillow beneath her. She thought about Paul and the way he kissed and touched her. Karl thrust as hard and deep as he could. He tightly wrapped his arms around her when he finally climaxed. 

Karl took a moment to catch his breath. He pushed himself up and looked down at Rosie’s perfectly round bottom. He caressed each buttock, and Rosie waited to see what he would do. He kissed her in the middle of her back. Rosie looked over her shoulder. Karl’s eyes were tired. She pushed the pillow up against the headboard and slid up to it. She gestured to Karl, who got in bed with her pulling the covers up to them. 

Rosie gently stroked Karl’s rough cheek. “It’s been so long, Karl. Every day I put on that cheery face for JoJo and everyone else. I just want to know.”

Karl kissed her chest. Paul hated the Party, but he was a German patriot. “He’s coming home, Rosie.” Karl didn’t want to think about what might be possible if Paul never came home.


	3. Monday, December 4

###  Monday, December 4

The alarm clanged once at 5:45 before Karl stopped it. He got up and put on his long underwear then his trousers. After he had finished relieving himself in the bathroom, he was standing at the sink, staring into the mirror. “You are a terrible person, Franz-Karl Leopold Graf von Corten. You could become a monk, pray twenty-four hours a day, and never expiate all the sin you’ve committed or had a hand in. You are fucking a subordinate, lying to him that it will all be fine, lying to the best friend you ever had that her husband is still alive, fucking an old friend’s wife so that no one will suspect you…”

Karl could still smell Rosie on his cheeks. He opened the cabinet and took out Paul’s razor and shaving mug. “And now you’re using his razor to get the smell of his wife off of you. You are a real shithead.” Karl swirled the shaving soap on his face and began to shave. He was half done when he thought he heard steps in the hall. “Rosie?” he called softly. He leaned over to look into the hall. No one was out there. He finished shaving and cleaned up after himself. Back in Rosie’s room he finished dressing. 

“I don’t like watching you go.”

Karl turned around and smiled at Rosie. “I have to go do my duty for the Fatherland. No one else is going to teach those kids all the wrong ways to be Nazi.”

Rosie pulled on her robe. “I wish you were just teaching them all the right ways to be a kid.”

“Yeah, stealing your parents’ wine, skinny dipping with pretty girls, skipping school, beating up bullies.”

Rosie wrapped her arm around Karl’s waist. They walked downstairs together where Rosie helped bundle up Karl. When she opened the front door, snow blew in the house. “Get home quick,” she told Karl as she kissed him goodbye.

“Five years in the East. This is nothing,” he reassured her. He hurried out the door and walked home as fast as he could. As Karl hurried upstairs, he found the office doors open. Freddie was standing in front of the huge windows watching the snow. 

“We didn’t get a lot of snow in Dortmund,” Freddie said. “It was always just a little too warm. I was excited to stay in Poland over the winter.”

Karl had less pleasant memories of the Eastern Front.

“What do you tell Her?”

Karl had been hoping to avoid another iteration of this conversation. “About what?”

“About anything.”

Karl sighed. “Freddie.”

Freddie raised his hands in surrender. “I get to be with you nearly all the time. She gets what, sixteen hours a week, and you’re asleep most of them?”

“Sleeping in a bed with a man is a little piece of the life she used to have.”

“Does She love you?”

“I don’t know,” Karl lied. “We don’t talk about it. I’m going upstairs and having breakfast.”

“I haven’t cooked anything.”

“You’re not the only man who can cook,” Karl called from the stairs. 

Freddie rolled his eyes. Freddie never knew a man who was either so entitled to all that was done for him or so oblivious to what real people needed to do to get along in life. He was going to stay and watch the snow, but God knew what Karl would do upstairs with the stove. Freddie wasn’t sure Karl even knew how to turn it on. 

Upstairs, Karl had diced an onion and a potato and fried them in a little lard with two eggs. He heard Freddie on the stairs and prepared two plates. Freddie came in and sat down, saying nothing. That’s how Karl had approached hundreds of meals. Karl set the plates on the table, poured two cups of coffee, and brought the bread to the table. “I thought I’d save the meat for _mittagessen_.”

Freddie looked up. “Sure. I doubt many children will be here today.”

“The wind is bad. It’s coming out of Siberia.” Karl looked over at the snow piling on the windowsill. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour. It promised to be a dark, quiet day. While he ate, he thought about the scarcity of meat. “We should go hunting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Freddie was confused. Karl had kept his hunting to Sundays.

Karl nodded. “The deer will lager up in the snow and wind. Once the wind and snow stop, they’ll be out to feed. If we’re lucky, tomorrow will be windless, and the deer won’t pick up our scent.”


	4. Tuesday, December 5

###  Tuesday, December 5

Karl dropped two rabbits on Gerti Rahm’s desk. She wrinkled her nose as she picked up the skinned carcasses. “Thank you, Captain K,” she said uncertainly. She looked around for something to contain the damp rabbits.

“I’ll get a roe deer next time,” he called to her as he ran up the stairs.

Gerti glanced at Freddie. “How was it?” She saw an older, unhung party poster and briefly thought about using it to wrap the rabbits. 

Freddie inhaled and decided to carefully phrase his description of the eight hours they’d spent stalking game in the snowy forest by moonlight. “I know why he likes the infantry. I’ll go get some newspaper for those.” Upstairs, Freddie heard the shower running. He had barely picked up and refolded a piece of newspaper when Karl came out of the bathroom vigorously drying himself off. 

“Freddie, I’m running out for a few minutes. I put four of those rabbits in the ice box.”

Freddie didn’t remind Karl it was a refrigerator, not an icebox. He silently watched Karl dress as fast as he could. “Where are you going?” he finally asked. 

Karl was already buttoning his trousers. He put on his blouse. “Just out. I’ll be back in an hour.” If he hurried, he could intercept Rosie leaving the house for the school. 

Freddie had an idea Karl was going to take two of the rabbits to whoever She was. “Sure.” Piqued, Freddie went back to the office. He wrapped Gerti’s rabbits for her. Karl did shoot six of the rabbits. He had every right to give the extra away. But, why did he have to give them to Her? He and Gerti heard Karl run down the stairs and the doors close with a bang.

Karl walked as quickly as he could through town. He felt people watching him. He was never out and about at this time of the day. Since he knew people were already noticing him, he decided to knock on Rosie’s front door. He stood there on her stoop in his grey greatcoat, thick grey scarf, and cap. The knocker was heavy and resounded against the painted door. 

All Jojo could see through the peep hole was a grey coat. “Papa!” Jojo excitedly opened the door, but his smile dissolved as his face fell. “Captain K.”

Karl smiled uncomfortably. He’d just desperately disappointed Jojo. “Hey, Jojo. Is your mother here?”

Jojo turned around. “Mama,” he weakly called. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and closed the door. Rosie poked her head out of the kitchen. Her eyes popped to see Karl.

“Captain Klenzendorf,” she said briskly as she walked crisply to the door. She wore a yellow sweater and brown wool slacks. “Karl,” she hissed quietly. “What are you doing here?”

Karl held out a paper package. “Dropping off these rabbits. I shouldn’t have come by. I’m sorry about Jojo.”

Rosie took the package. “Never mind,” she whispered. “Come in, Captain,” she said loudly enough for any passing by to hear. 

Karl was already a step down the stoop. “You won’t be late?”

“I have time for _one_ cup of coffee.”

Karl hesitated, and it wasn’t for show. “I suppose one cup of coffee.” He stepped into the house. He didn’t take off his coat or hang his cap though. He followed Rosie to the kitchen and sat down at the table. 

“Where’d you get rabbit?” she asked as she poured coffee. 

“Finkie and I were out hunting last night. I think he’s ready to ask for a transfer.”

Rosie smiled. “It couldn’t be worse than the Eastern Front.”

In his room, JoJo sat on his bed looking at a picture of his father. He heard voices in the kitchen, and then laughter, uproarious laughter. Frowning he put down the photo and slipped out of his room and to the kitchen door. His mother and Karl were both laughing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath. 

“That didn’t really happen,” Rosie challenged Karl. Her eyes were bright and sparkling.

Karl’s face and eyes were relaxed and less intense. His cap was tossed on the table and his coat was draped over the chair. It was as though he lived there. “On my honor as an officer, it did.” He happened to look up and saw JoJo. He immediately tried to erase any sign of mirth from his face and voice. “Jojo, I was just telling your mother about me and Freddie Finkle hunting rabbits last night.”

Jojo carefully edged into the room. “Is that what’s in the package?”

“Yes. I wanted to bring them over before your mother left.” Karl watched Jojo suspiciously open the package. “Maybe you could come hunting with us one day?”

Rosie laughed uncomfortably. “I think not. He can wait for his father to come home to do that.”

Jojo shrugged. For a moment he had thought his father was home. His unadulterated joy was now shattered by some rabbits and his mother laughing with another man. 

Karl quickly drank the rest of his coffee. “I’ve taken enough of your time this morning, Frau Betzler.”

Rosie picked up the coffee cups. “Jojo, go put your coat on. We need to get going, or I’ll be late. I’ll come home midday and get these ready for the oven.” Rosie put the rabbits in the refrigerator. 

Jojo slid his eyes over to Karl. “My leg hurts today.”

“Well, a walk will help stretch it out,” Rosie encouraged.

Karl stood up to put on his coat. “Sometimes the cold really seeps into my shoulder and back where I was most recently injured. Maybe he should stay home and keep a hot water bottle on his leg where it hurts.” Karl patted Jojo on the shoulder. 

Rosie frowned at Jojo’s downcast face. “Well, maybe if you promise to stay in your room. No radio, no gramophone.” Jojo nodded, and Rosie bent down to kiss him. “Ok, go back to bed.”

Karl watched Jojo leave. “I haven’t felt that much jealousy directed toward me in years.”

Rosie rinsed the coffee cups. “He’s ten. Come on. We can walk together if you’re going my way.”

In his room, Jojo left the door open just a crack so he could listen.

Karl was unsure just how much of a reputation he and Rosie needed. “I remember waiting for my father to come home from the front, and I remember how I felt the day I ran down the stairs towards that grey uniform and saw _Generalluetnant_[1] Graf von Imrech and not my father.”

“Paul is coming home,” Rosie said with sharp finality. “I won’t hear of anything else until I have proof in my hand that he isn’t.”

Jojo couldn’t see Karl’s wincing smile or the doubt in Karl’s one good eye. “I’m sure he is, Rosie,” Jojo heard Karl say. Why would a General personally deliver a death notice? They just came in the mail or as a telegram in Falkenheim. 

Rosie frailly smiled and walked to the garderobe. She wrapped her scarf around her and set her winter hat on her head. Karl held her coat for her, and she held the door for him in order to lock it. As soon as Jojo heard the door close, he scrambled out of his room and ran upstairs to Inge’s room. He peeked through the lace curtains and watched his mother and Karl walk down the street together, not holding hands but certainly talking. And, since when did Captain K call his mother _Rosie_?

Gerti Rahm could barely type, it was so cold in the office. Outside, the day was nearly dark at 3 and the snow had begun to fall again. She dreaded going home in the cold, but it might be warmer there. 

“Heil Hitler, Gerti,” was accompanied by the stamping of feet. 

Gerti looked up. “Heil Hitler, Frau Betzler. Jojo isn’t here.”

“I know. He’s at home faking being ill. Is Captain Klenzendorf here?” Rosie glanced toward Karl’s office and saw the doors half open. She could hear his voice.

“He’s on the phone trying to get more coal for the boiler. If he can’t, he said he and Finkie will shut off half the building’s heat and hot water.” Gerti sighed. “A lot of the kids come here in the afternoon to get warm and get something to eat.”

“Really? I didn’t know the _Jugend_ fed the children.”

“It doesn’t, but Captain K and Finkie do. They go out every weekend and somehow come back with sacks of potatoes, onions, carrots, cabbages, apples.” Gerti lowered her voice. “I’m afraid they might be sneaking into barns and sliding a bit out the back.”

Rosie glanced back at Karl’s office. “I doubt he’s using sticky fingers for that. More likely he’s trading on the farmers’ patriotism and his charm.”

Gerti smiled a bit. “He is charming, if you like that sort. You know, over-educated Prussians. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a _von_ in his name.”

Rosie slyly smiled. Even when he was a boy, Karl had been very particular about emphasizing that his family was Bavarian and from the Southern Tirol, not Prussian at all. “Yes, it is surprising.”

Heavy steps could be heard on the stairs, and Freddie came into the office. “Oh. Heil Hitler, Frau Betzler.”

“Heil Hitler, Freddie. How are you? That’s a lovely, warm sweater.” Rosie noticed Freddie was wearing a heavy fisherman’s sweater.

“Thanks.” Freddie paused. “I’m exhausted. I’ve never walked that far through that much snow. At least in Russia, I was usually driving. Captain K was ready to go again by midday.”

The doors to Karl’s private office opened. “Fink—Oh there you are. We are getting half a load of coal tomorrow. It’s not enough, but we’ll make do. Frau Betzler, I thought we were meeting at the school.”

Rosie finally advanced into the office. “We haven’t had heat at the school since Friday. Our boiler was on its last leg, and I fear that leg broke. There’s ice on the inside of my office windows.”

“Well, please come into my office. We can have our meeting here. Finkle, go upstairs and grab a few blankets for our frozen headmistress.” Karl ushered Rosie into his office. She set the school attendance book on the desk. Karl looked around and saw the old fainting couch. He pulled it near the desk so Rosie didn’t have to sit on a rickety chair that looked like it might once have been in a disreputable stube. Freddie came back with two wool blankets from Karl’s bed. 

“I never understood these weird couches,” Freddie said as he set the blankets on the foot of the couch. His parents had a sofa and two chairs. Gerti had followed him into the office wondering why he was taking blankets in there.

“The fainting couch?” Karl asked.

“Yes. Why does it have a swan carved in the back, and why is the back more like an arm? And why is it called a fainting couch? Did ladies used to faint on them?”

Rosie softly laughed. “Well, some did if they laced their corsets too tight.”

Gerti was still mystified. “Freddie’s right, it’s a useless piece of furniture.”

Rosie was grinning. A cat with a bird didn’t grin so smugly. “It was also used for the treatment of female hysteria.[2]”

“What?” Karl asked.

“Female hysteria. A feeling of frustration and annoyance.”

Gerti rolled her eyes. “Every woman feels that.”

“However, the cure was paroxysm.” Rosie was still grinning. When three confused faces looked back at her, Rosie’s eyes began to twinkle. “Orgasms. Female orgasms. Why do you think the muscle vibrator was invented? To relieve the doctors’ wrists.[3]” She covered her broad smile as the three other adults’ eyes popped and their jaws dropped. 

“Oh, my God!” Freddie slapped his hand over his gaping mouth. “My parents have one of those!” His nearly ran to his desk to write them a letter urging them to throw away the evil device.

Gerti was just staring at Rosie. “Female orgasm?”

Rosie nodded. “Physical sexual fulfillment. If women had more orgasms, they’d be better, more patient mothers. I bet that‘s not in the _Madel_ handbook.”

“Oh, my God,” Gerti kept whispering over and over as she left. 

Rosie looked at Karl, he was leaning on his desk, barely able to conceal a smile. “You’ve just destroyed all my memories of my Oma Irena and reading books with her on the fainting couch.”

“I like the matching sweaters you and Freddie are wearing.” Rosie wanted to put her arms around Karl. “Shall we?”

Karl nodded. “I think I’ll sit in my chair and leave the paroxysm couch to you.”

Gerti knocked on Karl’s nearly closed doors. “Captain K, the last of the kids is out. I closed the shutters. Freddie’s upstairs asleep, and I’m going home. Thanks for the rabbits.”

Karl rose from his desk. He and Rosie were three-quarters finished. “Gerti, let me come lock up behind you,” he called as he picked up his key ring. “Be right back.”

Rosie watched Karl quickly follow Gerti downstairs. She heard Karl close the doors and lock them. She also heard him check all the other doors on the way back. When he reached Gerti’s desk, he locked that set of doors, then closed the doors to his private office. He also closed the shutters in the windows. “Well, I certainly do feel secure.”

Karl sighed as he sat down again. “That rat Deertz caught me unawares once. Never again.” They finished going over their lists of the absent, the ill, the orphaned, and the unfortunate. When they were finished, Rosie closed her book and dropped it on the floor, while Karl poured them both whiskey. “Here’s to Hell,” Karl toasted.

“Heil Hitler.” Rosie really meant that. After her first swallow, she put her drink on the floor. “Come sit with me,” she enticed him softly.

“In the sacred sanctuary of the _Jugend_ office?” Karl mocked.

“I bet more than one HJ has explored the skirts of a DM on this.”

Karl paused. “You’re probably right.” He moved over to Rosie and got under the blankets with her. He laid his head on her breasts as she put her arms around him and rested her hands on his chest, one hand slightly slipped beneath his sweater into his shirt. He closed his eyes as she rhythmically stroked his hair.

“I miss holding Paul like this,” she admitted softly.

“I’m sure Paul misses being held like this.” Karl picked up one of Rosie’s hands and kissed its back. “And, you’re wearing trousers.”

“I think I was slightly mean to Freddie. The look on his face was too precious, though.”

“He’ll live. Are you in need of any relief from female hysteria this evening?”

“No,” Rosie whispered into his hair as she kissed him. She listened to his breathing as it slowed, and he fell asleep. Caressing his cheek, she both missed her husband and wished Karl lived with her. He’d been right that she needed a man to take care of and who would take care of her. That had been Paul. She missed softly talking in the dark before falling asleep, laughing over coffee, or dancing in the living room. She needed a husband, and Jojo needed a father. She wondered if Paul would even care. Jojo certainly did. She lay there with a napping Karl until the church bells began ringing six o’clock. “Karl, I have to go,” she whispered as she gently began to untangle herself from him.

Karl exhaled deeply. “Alright.” He sat up, pulling the blankets from Rosie. She stood up, finished her whiskey, and reached for her coat. Karl took Rosie down the dark stairs to the front door. He unlocked the door but didn’t open it immediately. “Rosie,” he whispered. He couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say, it was so disorganized in his mind, and he was also trying to listen for Freddie. Instead, he kissed her cheek.

Rosie sighed as she hugged Karl. “I’ll always love you, Karl.”

“I don’t deserve that.”

Rosie pertly kissed his lips. “Yes. You do.” She put her hand on top of Karl’s on the old iron door handle and pressed it down. The door swung open, and she slipped out into the snow. 

Leaning on the door frame and smoking a cigarette, he watched her walk down the street until she turned a corner and was out of his sight. He locked the doors and went upstairs. Freddie was face down, lightly snoring on his bed. He hadn’t even gotten under the covers. Karl walked over to Freddie’s bed, noticing he still had his shoes on. Kneeling down, Karl eased Freddie’ shoes from his feet. He managed to pull the blankets out from under Freddie without really waking him. 

“No, I’m not,” Freddie mumbled as he turned over. 

“OK,” Karl softly agreed. He tucked in Freddie then kissed his forehead. He ate a slice of bread and some cheese followed by a glass of terrible wine. It was a quiet evening for Karl listening to the silence of snow, and he eventually went to bed. 

[1] Major General

[2] The fainting couch is a variety of daybed or chaise lounge and has been in existence since the ancient era. Romans used them prodigiously. In the Victorian Era, it was a piece of furniture used in private. There would never be one in a parlor meant for entertaining the general public or casual friends. A chaise lounge would be relegated to a bedroom, dressing room, study, or fainting room—the ancestress of a she-shed.

[3] The history of the muscle vibrator, whether used for sexual purposes or not, is somewhat contested. The currently popular theory that is was invented to relieve overtaxed doctors is only attested to in one work, Rachel Maines’ The Technology of Orgasm: “Hysteria”, The Vibrator, and Women's Sexual Satisfaction, handily summarized here: <https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/all-about-sex/201303/hysteria-and-the-strange-history-vibrators> . A refutation of Maines’ work can be found at <https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20181107-the-history-of-the-vibrator> .


	5. Wednesday, St Nicholas’ Day, December 6

Magda, Gabi, and Katerine quietly conferred in a corner and wrote their order of movement on a slate. Wilhelm, Peter, and Paul smirked from their side of the table. About twenty other kids had gathered in a circle to watch this final round of game play. Karl and Freddie had been running a tournament for weeks, Magda’s team was the surprise contender as no one had thought girls would have a head for strategy even with the weekly lectures from Karl and practices from Freddie. Freddie was the time-keeper, drew the chance cards, threw the weather dice, and was the final authority on the rules. Each team gave him their movement orders, and he arranged the map. The boys, nearly out of supplies, had almost taken the town and planned to use its food and materiel resources to surge outward, while the girls held back the bulk of their force, only harrying the other side.

“Three minutes, frauleins,” Freddie called. 

Karl was standing behind Freddie, completely serious and neutral. A blonde boy ran up to him. “Captain K,” he whispered, and Karl bent down. “Safari alert.”

“OK. Let him in.” Karl turned his attention back to what might be the final round of orders in this tournament. 

Captain Deertz noticed the crowd in the room and started to walk in. “Heil—” He saw Karl hold up a hand to halt, then motioned Deertz over. Deertz was quite confused as to why his heil was interrupted. “Heil Hitler,” he said directly to Karl, who wasn’t looking.

“Heil Hitler,” Karl said softly. 

“What’s going on?” Deertz asked suspiciously. He should have been greeted with a resounding chorus of Heils.

“We’re having a war game tournament, and I think this could be the last movement order.”

“Who’s playing?”

“Wilhelm Schlaeker’s team against Magda Forster’s.”

“Is it really appropriate to have the girls playing against the boys?”

“Captain Deertz, I’ve seen a lot of brains spilled out on the ground. It’s very hard to tell the difference between the girls and the boys.”

“Time’s up. Movement orders please.” Freddie held out both hands and received two slates. He arranged the boy’s markers first, and they could take the town in one or two more rounds, depending on what the girls did. However, when he read through the girls’ orders and reset their markers, it was clear they had waited until the boys’ units were too strung out to support each other and had moved in from all directions for the kill. The girls were two moves ahead of the boys. The boys’ units were all destroyed, with only one loss for the girls. “And the girls win.”

Magda and her teammates started jumping up and down, clapping, and screaming to the shocked faces of the boys they had just defeated. The rest of the children were also cheering. Karl clapped as well, while Freddie went over to the windows. He had three ivy crowns with winter berries for the winners. 

“OK, then,” Karl said with authority. “Congratulations to Magda.” He took one of the crowns and placed it on her head, shook her hand, and kissed each cheek. “Congratulations to Gabi.” Gabi received her crown, handshake, kisses. “Congratulations to Katerine.” As soon as Karl put the crown on Katerine’s head, she grabbed him in a tight hug. Slightly startled but more used to these sudden eruptions of emotion from the children, Karl hugged her back. When Katerine let go, Karl looked down and saw the tears in her eyes. Her father was in an American POW camp in the Deep South of the US. “I’ll write a letter to your father, yeah? Tell him how smart you are.” Katerine nodded as she smiled but a few tears still slipped out. Karl took out a fine linen handkerchief embroidered with a black fractur K and blotted her eyes. 

“OK.” Karl said, addressing all the children. “Fraulein Rahm and Sergeant Finkle and I all are very proud of all of you and all you’ve learned. And, it’s St Nicholas Day. So, we have homemade stollen today. Everyone, go get a slice and thank Fraulein Rahm for making it. She has it on the back table.” The children surged to the back of the room with Freddie trying to get them into something resembling a line.

The defeated boys straggled behind, sullen in their disappoint. “Boys,” Karl called to them, gesturing for them to come over. “Do you know when you’re ready to be a man?” He got three downcast faces shaking their heads. “When you can graciously accept defeat from even a woman. Be men, and congratulate the girls with good cheer, yeah? A girl purposely knocked me on my ass when I was ten in front of the whole school. She ended up being my girlfriend and best friend for years.”

The dejected boys half nodded in unison and wandered over for some stollen. Karl watched them half-heartedly congratulate the girls. He never thought he would spend so much time in this job dispensing the same wisdom his father had given him. He decided he couldn’t ignore Deertz forever and turned to the strangely tall man. “So, Captain Deertz. My office, or do you need a piece of stollen?”

Deertz would like a piece of stollen, but he couldn’t say that he wanted part of the children’s treat. “Your office, Captain.”

Karl led Deertz across the landing and through the big office to his private office. He barely closed the doors. “How can I help you?” he asked reaching for his decanter of whiskey and pouring himself a drink. “Whiskey?”

“No, thank you. So, the great Captain Klenzendorf knocked on his ass by a girl.” Deertz’s smile was a little too much of a smirk.

Karl smiled. “She was a hell of a girl.”

“Was that game the children played part of the _Jugend_ program?” Deertz looked around for a chair. He didn’t want to sit on the fainting couch. His grandmother had one and it was ridiculously uncomfortable. He dragged over a rickety old stube chair.

“No. I thought it up on my own. Would you like to play next time?”

Deertz set his jaw as he crossed his long, spidery legs. “An unauthorized game.”

“It’s not much different than what the sergeants and new officers learn.”

“But, letting the girls beat the boys…”

Karl laughed. “There was no letting. The girls had a sounder strategy and deployed their assets in a disciplined manner that adapted to challenges. Those boys’ll never make that mistake again, in a game or real life. Who knows, perhaps the General Staff could benefit from some sharp young women.”

Deertz’s eyebrow was raised so skeptically high it was trying to touch his hairline. “About Frau Betzler.”

Karl finally sat down. “Lovely woman. The town really has a treasure with her as a school official.” He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk.

“Why do the two of you meet twice a week?”

“We work with the same children. You know how many fathers are away fighting, dead, or missing. So many mothers barely able to hold together the families. Too many mouths and not enough food. Frau Betzler and I are looking to keep as many of them in school and coming to youth activities as possible. Less time for mischief.”

“And your hunting excursions?”

“What about them? Should I not shoot rabbits and throw them in the soup we make for the kids every day? I have the landowners’ permission.”

“You are using ammunition that could be better used at the front.”

Karl leaned forward. “We use .22 caliber rifles, a caliber that isn’t used at the front much as it’s too small. And, if we don’t keep these children fed, not only will we not have an army, we won’t have a people.”

“And where do you get the potatoes and other vegetables?”

Karl smiled. “I know people in supply. And, farmers are happy to give a sack for the kids who helped harvest the fields in the fall.”

Deertz thought about the stollen. “Raisins?”

“Fraulein Rahm’s mother has a huge grape arbor.”

Deertz smiled stiffly. Karl had an answer for everything, most of them even patriotic. He probably always had. Deertz was certain Karl was the popular, athletic boy all the girls giggled over and the teachers gave unearned good grades. He was never teased about his height, his glasses, his ungainliness. “I see you have four pair of pants drying in the window nook. Three officer’s pants and one pair of enlisted pants.” 

Confused, Karl turned to look at the drying rack. It was the sunniest window in the building. “Yes.”

“That’s a lot of pants.”

Karl turned back toward Deertz, eyeing the exceptionally tall man like he might be a potentially volatile lunatic. “Is it?” His loaded pistol was in its case on the belt hanging from the valet stand next to him. “Finkle is very good at keeping my clothes repaired. I was also fortunate to have quite a few pair of trousers when the war started.”

“I have the sense you come from a monied family.”

Karl opened his cigarette case. He hoped smoking would drive away Deertz. “Well,” Karl said lighting his cigarette and blowing the smoke straight across his desk. “I don’t know about that.”

Deertz knew that tone and expression. It was used by people who’d grown up without a care in the world. There had never been doubt if there would be food on the table, heat in the winter, or even somewhere to live. “Frau Betzler grew up in Berlin, didn’t she?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever spoken about it with her.”

“And, Paul Betzler grew up here in Falkenheim, one of our leading families.”

Karl took a heavy drag on his cigarette. “That’s very interesting. You grew up here as well, I take it. Did you know Herr Betzler as a boy? I imagine you both went to the school just round the way.”

“And where is your family now, Captain Klenzendorf?”

Karl remained as placid as he could. “I don’t have one anymore. My parents were both dead by the time I was fourteen. I was an only child. Distant relatives saw to me until I was an adult and on my own. I don’t even have an apartment to go back to. When I had my enforced convalescent leaves, they sent me to training battalions as a staff officer.”

“How unfortunate. Frau Betzler is similarly situated. It’s no wonder she is so adamant that Herr Betzler is returning.”

Looking past Deertz, Karl saw Gerti charging across the office with a plate in her hand. He was relieved she was going to unknowingly rescue him. “Captain K and Captain Deertz, have some stollen. I saved some for you.” She set the plate on the desk. “It’s my mother’s secret recipe.” She stood by waiting for a compliment.

Deertz took a slice and bit into it. “It’s very good. What’s the secret?”

Gerti had a look of momentary panic, before she started laughing. “You Gestapo, always so funny.”

Karl felt his jaw clenching. He stopped himself from asking for a fork and broke off a small piece to taste. “Very good. Fraulein Rahm, do you have those papers I needed to sign?”

“Oh. Let me go get them. So many copies that require original signatures,” she reminded herself and Karl as she walked away.

Karl finished his whiskey. “I’m afraid duty calls, Captain Deertz.”

Deertz smiled as he finished the stollen. “It was so nice to chat with you, Captain Klenzendorf.” He stood up to leave. “Heil Hitler,” he said almost affectionately as he left.

Karl stood up. “Heil Hitler. Oh, Gerti, good God look at that stack of papers.”

Gerti started to hand the papers to Karl one by one. Karl was signing things rotely as he watched Deertz leave. “You think the Gestapo really wants my mother’s stollen recipe?”

Karl didn’t miss a signature. “You could always just give it to them.”

“But, then it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“Difficult choices, Fraulein Rahm. Difficult choices.”

The mind of Herman Deertz was wasted in Falkenheim. He was not only intelligent and crafty but deeply analytical. He found the small spaces where things didn’t align or the tiny details that slipped. He had grown up playing chess not cards. He intuitively understood and developed the steps of a strategy, but the motivations of his opponents went unexplored as irrelevant. A degree in accountancy saved him from a life as a plasterer. His love of numbers and order had been a terrific asset when he managed the coal depot, a giant living puzzle the pieces of which were in constant motion. He not only made sure coal was paid for and hauled away by the truckload, but he also had trains coming and going all day and night, dealt with the customs officers as the coal depot sat on the old border, managed the workers, and oversaw all manner of tiny details down to coffee and tea in the cantine. 

He stood in a cold, bare room in the Gestapo headquarters where he had cross-referenced lists on chalkboards and pinned up a detailed map of Falkenheim. If asked, he knew how every phone and electrical wire and node ran in Falkenheim. Frosty breath barely escaped Deertz’s muffler. There were many networks in Falkenheim. He had informers among the Rahms, at the churches, in every neighborhood. But, the networks which particularly intrigued him were how people traded food and used goods because one didn’t fit. Mostly it was neighbors trading with neighbors and family members. Milk for soap between a cousin on the farm and one in town. Trout for garden tomatoes between back fence chatters. But, the librarian, a headmaster, the old priest, a woodcutter, a kindergarten teacher, a bicycle repairman, a plumber? That one didn’t fit. They weren’t convenient to one another. They didn’t have previous ties, familiar ties. They didn’t all attend the same mass. They didn’t play cards together. They didn’t even all use the same bakery or laundress. They worked and lived around the town distant from one another. They did have one thing in common: Rosie Betzler. And, she was drawing in Karl Klenzendorf. Herman Deertz didn’t know whether to be concerned with the captain’s loyalty or his inevitably broken heart.

Rosie’s sudden interest in Karl baffled Deertz. She’d always opposed the _Jugend_ pedagogically, if not politically, and wouldn’t give Herr Wesser the time of day, but now she was cooperating with an active duty officer and even allowed her own son to join. And, the speed of their romance had astonished the entire office. Rosie was adamant that her husband was alive and would be coming home, yet within three days of meeting Karl, she had him spending the night in her home. And, now he was over there twice a week, very carefully timing his surreptitious comings and brazen goings. Herr Mueller had been the one to say it was to keep her son from noticing as the boy was most likely in bed.

Deertz knew Rosie as a careful, measured woman with a sarcastic tone but crisp mannerisms and an imperious air. The Betzlers were well-off, but it had been obvious when Rosie arrived in 1933, that Paul had married far above his station. She might have been from Berlin, but Deertz sensed there was more. Her family was deceased and came from Pomerania and Prussia. Over a few generations they had gone from peasants and artisans to bourgeoise businessmen, migrating into Berlin along the way. She brushed off questions about her parents. Her mannerisms and her family didn’t match, but her mannerisms and Karl’s mannerisms did. Deertz wasn’t there to see it, but an agent from the Nuremberg office had laughingly relayed how furious a one-eyed Army officer had been back in July when confronted with his illegitimate birth and lack of acknowledgment by a noble family. There weren’t that many one-eyed officers in Falkenheim, Deertz thought. Karl always presented a cheery, calm front, but Deertz saw the sublime seething in his bad eye. What he wouldn’t give for a look into Karl’s history, a man who claimed he was completely alone and adrift in the world. 

What Deertz needed was evidence of something, anything. Rosie made jam: elderflower, cherry, strawberry, wild berry, and apple-pear. She also always had an extra bar of soap or a bottle of liquor. The rest of the people in that network grew, made, and traded ordinary things, too. But, Deertz was still certain there was more there. Why did Rosie want or need Karl? Certainly, she wasn’t simply taken with him? Not with that butchered eye, odd accent, and arrogant personality. Not to mention the now seemingly forgiven hand grenade incident. Deertz reached out with a piece of chalk in his long, thin fingers and underlined the plumber’s name.


	6. Monday, December 11

### Monday, December 11

Sighing as he sat down at his desk, Karl tried not to look at the calendar. Second Monday: departure day for last month’s conscripts. He knew too many of them, and he also knew they would barely get three weeks in indoctrination camp before being sent to the line. “Fraulein Rahm?” Karl called.

“Yes, Captain K?” Gerti got up from her desk. 

“What time do they leave from the train station?”

“They take a noon train to Nuremberg, but no one is allowed to be on the platform.”

Karl wasn’t surprised. The last thing the escort sergeants needed was the weeping and wailing mothers of teenaged boys. He took out his watch and checked the time. He decided to walk over to the train station at eleven. “Sergeant Finkle.”

Freddie popped around the open doors. “Sir?”

“Eleven o’clock, we’re going over to the train station.”

“Yes, sir.” Freddie didn’t know why Karl insisted on torturing himself this way. There was little either of them could have done. Their kids were probably going to be better trained than any others from the area. 

Freddie and Karl arrived at the train station at quarter after. The trucks were there, and the police had cordoned off the area. Karl had to ignore several young sergeants to get past the cordon. This was no way to send kids off to war, he thought. It looked like an abduction. They shouldn’t have to go in the first place. The platform was cold and windy, and the boys stood in quiet lines as a gruff master sergeant walked up and down the assembly with a clipboard. Karl was looking for his _Jugend_.

“Heil Hitler!” the master sergeant suddenly snapped to attention and saluted. 

Karl half-heartedly returned the salute. “Heil Hitler. Just looking for my boys.” Karl thought he’d recognize them, but they were all in ill-fitting green-grey uniforms.

“You have sons out here, sir?” The master sergeant was surprised an officer’s sons would be conscripted.

“No. My _Hitler Jugend_.”

“What town, sir?”

“Falkenheim. Where are they going?”

“Fill out the 48th on the Siegfried Line at Neunkirchen, sir.”

Karl sighed. The only reason that part of the Line hadn’t fallen was the American Third Army outran their supply lines. Once the Americans started moving east again, these kids would end up in a POW camp. Maybe it was better for them to only be in combat a few weeks rather than be dragged in a retreat across Germany. Maybe the General Staff would convince the Party to surrender. “Where are my kids?” he asked wearily.

“Right over there, sir.”

Karl walked down the lines of boys to his. They were all so small and thin. He couldn’t smile, and he didn’t want any of these boys to see a doubtful and disappointed face. He held as stern and unconcerned a look as he could. He walked quickly and precisely, his hands in his coat pockets. 

“Hey, Captain K!” one of them called out. Someone else elbowed him, and he quieted down.

“So, this is where they’ve put all of you,” Karl said as he approached. “You look good,” he said with a tight smile. “You all look good.” He patted Mattias Amsel on the shoulder. The uniform wasn’t wool. It was a thin, slick material. Karl hoped it didn’t waterlog fast like cotton did. “What time did you have to get up this morning?”

Mattias rolled his eyes. “Three am, sir. Then we spent hours turning in our clothes and getting uniforms.”

Freddie nodded. “Get used to it, boys. Did they swear you in?”

“No, Sergeant Finkle.”

Freddie winced a bit. The kids always called him Herr Finkle or even Herr Freddie. 

Karl looked down the platform at the escort sergeants. They were conferring over paperwork and drinking coffee. “Ok, circle up,” he said conspiratorially as he knelt down. “Sergeant Finkle, can you keep an eye on your comrades?”

Freddie nodded. 

Karl looked around at the boys. He’d been trying to train them since August and just hoped some of it had taken. “Alright. I know you’re all worried but listen to your sergeants and the older men. Ok? They’ve been there and gotten through it. Stay out of the way of the officers. And, stay dry. Even being a little damp, and hypothermia will set in with this weather.” He tried to be as encouraging as he could be. “Sergeant Finkle, do you have that bag?”

Freddie nodded and handed Karl a canvas satchel. Karl looked down the platform again, checking on the preoccupation of the other sergeants. He opened the bag and pulled out a handful of chocolate bars. “Don’t eat these now,” Karl said lowly. “Put them in your rucks for later. It’s not a beer, but some days just call for chocolate.”

The boys sheepishly and gratefully smiled as they each were given a candy bar and hid it. Almost all of them had lost a beer or two on the August training weekend. Karl looked around him. He’d never put anyone on a train to the front. It had always been the ill and injured heading to the safety of the rear. All he could think was if these kids had shown up as replacements in his company, he would have thought his battalion commander was openly plotting against him. He could hear them talking to him, and he was even talking back, but he felt trapped in an absurd miasma. 

“Sir, your camera?” Freddie prompted.

Karl snapped his fingers, snapping himself out of his dissonance. “Right. All of you get together for a photo, hmm? Something to hang on the wall back in the office.”

With Karl and Freddie around, the boys were more like their old selves. One of them pulled at Karl’s coat sleeve. “You have to be in it, too, Captain K.” Karl found himself pushed up against the back wall of the train station and surrounded by his _Jugend_. Freddie had the camera. 

“Everyone push your caps back a bit so I can see your faces,” Freddie called out. He watched as Karl lifted his arms up around several of the boys and others put their arms around him. “And, smile.”

Karl did his best. He wanted to discover this was all some terrible bureaucratic mistake and send every one of them back home. The boys were still clustered around Karl when the sergeants at the other end of the platform noticed. The master sergeant quickly stomped toward Freddie, who shoved the camera in his coat pocket.

“Sergeant,” the escort leader snapped. “Why is that captain messing up my system?”

Freddie sighed heavily. “He’s an officer,” Freddie said as if that explained everything.

The master sergeant stood there grinding his teeth on a cigarette. “ _Verdammte hauptmanne_ ,” he muttered under his breath. “Every one of those privates better be on the train, Sergeant, or I’m sending my boss back here to deal with him.”

Freddie nodded. “I swear they will be.”

A whistle blew down the platform, and the escorts began yelling for the new recruits to board the train. The boys around Karl quieted down and looked at other recruits climbing into the old passenger train. “Ok, then,” Karl said quietly. “Listen to your sergeants.”

Matias held out his hand to Karl, who shook it and clapped the boy on the shoulder. One by one, the boys either shook Karl’s hand or hugged him. Karl took many deep breaths to keep his voice steady. Once on the train, they lowered the windows and were still yelling out to him. They waved as the church bells began to ring the noon hour, and the train groaned to life. Freddie took a few more pictures, hoping it wasn’t illegal. It only took a few moments, for the platform to be deserted. Karl was still standing there, watching the train roll further down the track. Freddie took a photo. He tried to take a second, but the chrome button wouldn’t press down. 

“You’re out of film, Captain.”

Karl sighed and shook his head. “They’ll be sent up to the line on New Year’s Day. What a dreadful way to start the year.”

Freddie led them back to the hauptstrasse and eventually Hohenzollernplatz. “Sir, why aren’t there more wreaths on doors? Or a big tree set up?”

“I guess there isn’t much celebratory feeling these days.” Karl happened to glance at the gallows as they walked by. There was space for six, but Deertz always left one empty. The bodies up there were pale and beginning to darken. Karl never saw the point of trying to execute away an insurgency. Inevitably, the wrong people were killed just strengthening the resolve of the actual resistors. 

“Well, pardon my language, sir, but fuck that. Can I use the _kugelwagen_ this afternoon?” Freddie had barely paid attention to Karl’s monologues about tracking game and where to find it. He had paid attention to the trees and what grew where.

“Sure,” Karl said off-handedly. He couldn’t imagine what Freddie needed the wagon for.


	7. Friday, December 15

Sitting on the dark stairs and inhaling the scent of a pine forest, Karl smoked what he hoped would be the last cigarette of the day and drank from his flask. Freddie had come back from his excursion on Monday with a wagon full of pine boughs. He and the children had spent the week making ropes and straw ornaments. They’d festooned as much of the building as they could. The scent of pine reminded Karl of his grandmother Irena’s summer house in the Allgäu. The original chalet had been a chicken coop and cattle barn by the time Karl was a boy. He remembered the distant lowing of cattle as he and his father fished in the frigid green streams and the long table in the garden where they ate at noon every day. There was a tiny chapel, barely big enough for two pews. Most people stood outside during Mass.

The doors banged open and shut, pulling Karl from his memories. He heard Freddie’s footsteps.

Freddie saw the glowing tip of Karl’s cigarette. “Karl, why are you sitting on the stairs?”

Karl sighed. “Well, I was really drunk when I got home, and I kind of came to rest here.”

Freddie bent down and pulled Karl to his feet. “Come on.”

“How’s the girl?” Karl asked as he leaned on the wall. 

“Come on, Karl. Let’s just get you upstairs.” Freddie didn’t want to talk about his date with Tekla. She was nice, but he was treating her like one of his sisters’ friends. He carefully helped Karl walk up the stairs and got him into the apartment. Karl staggered to his bed and collapsed there. Amazingly, he still had his cigarette in his hand. 

“Tell me about the girl,” Karl demanded.

“What’s to tell? I had to meet her family.” Freddie hung up his coat and hat and started undressing.

“So soon?” Karl asked taking a drag on the cigarette.

“It’s a small town, Karl. There’s only so much you can do without it getting around.” Freddie was standing in front of his wardrobe, and he watched Karl in the mirror. “Questions about you are starting to pop up. Why are you out at six am some mornings, for instance. I told them officers are weird.”

Karl finished his cigarette and smashed it out. He got off his bed and came behind Freddie. “Do you know what I realized about three hours ago?” Karl let his hands run down Freddie’s sides and settle on his hips. “That I’m jealous of a twenty year old peasant girl from some no name town on a forgotten road to Plzen.” Karl wrapped his arms around Freddie and kissed his nape. “No one even knows where Plzen is, for God’s sake.” 

Freddie finished unbuttoning his _feldbluse_. He tried to hide his delighted smile. He had begun to doubt Karl had the capacity to love, but at least the man could be jealous. “She works at the _fabrik_ and finished the Catholic _gymnasium_.”

“Ok, a twenty year old, well-educated, factory girl,” Karl said rubbing his cheek in Freddie’s hair. “Doesn’t change the fact I had a fit of jealousy over her that drove me damn near to the bottom of a whiskey bottle.”

Freddie turned around in Karl’s arms. “You going to do anything about that jealousy?” he asked as he put his arms around Karl’s neck.

“Thought about it,” Karl said.

“That’s the difference between officers and sergeants. Officers think about things, and sergeants actually do them.”

“Yeah?” Karl’s hands ran around Freddie’s waist to his trouser buttons. “Want to prove that?”

“Just like an officer. Put it all on the back of his sergeant,” Freddie scoffed. 

Karl smirked, and Freddie suddenly kissed him hard. Freddie’s hands yanked down Karl’s braces as Karl shoved Freddie’s blouse in the floor. They quickly stripped, helping each other as they moved to the beds, and Freddie pushed Karl down. Karl closed his eyes while Freddie roughly kissed him from his shoulders to his waist. He gently massaged Freddie’s neck as Freddie fellated him. Karl finally opened his eyes and took a deep breath before pushing Freddie away. Freddie was surprised and almost felt rejected until Karl kissed him passionately. Freddie was on his side, and Karl was holding him close while kissing his face and neck. Karl’s other hand was over Freddie’s hip, pressing their groins close.

“Let me,” Freddie murmured as his hand firmly held Karl’s buttock, and he laid small kisses on Karl’s face.

Karl felt his chest tighten. “Now?”

Freddie nodded as he started to kiss Karl and began to push him onto his back. 

Karl steeled himself and relented. He allowed Freddie to settle between his thighs. Karl focused on the ceiling, letting Freddie move at his own pace. Freddie fumbled for the mineral oil in the bed table. Freddie could feel Karl’s tension and tried to gently massage it away.

“It’ll be alright, Karl,” Freddie said with a reassuring kiss. “You know I’d never hurt you.”

Karl smiled, probably not convincingly. But he ran his hand through Freddie’s hair. “You do always take care of me.”

Freddie looked down at Karl’s chest as he penetrated his lover. He didn’t want to see fear or pain on Karl’s face. Freddie gasped at how wonderful it felt. Karl shifted some under him, and Freddie was able to thrust deeper. Karl’s arms were tight around him, his hands tangled in Freddie’s hair. Karl could see a water stain on the ceiling. He didn’t know how long it had been there, and he started to think about the roof. How old was the roof? Had it been inspected lately? He could get on the roof. No. It was better to call for a man with experience, who knew what a leaking rook might look like. How stupid would it look if he fell off a roof and died? _Disgraced Former War Hero Falls Off Roof_. That would be a terrible headline in the newspaper. The children would be…well, some of them would be morbidly fascinated with his broken neck and protruding spine.

Freddie’s whimpering panting brought Karl back. He kissed Freddie’s cheek, then pointedly licked his tongue over the whorl of Freddie’s ear. When Karl purposely tickled his tongue in Freddie’s ear, Freddie couldn’t hold back any longer. Karl held Freddie to him as Freddie clenched his body around Karl’s. Freddie’s breath collapsed almost like Freddie did. Karl rubbed Freddie’s back. He kissed Freddie’s damp hair and held him. Freddie was a good lover, and Karl knew that Freddie loved him without hesitation.

“You’re a good boy, Freddie,” Karl smoothed Freddie’s hair away from his face.

“I’m not ten,” Freddie mumbled.

“You’re a sexy man, Freddie.”

Freddie lifted his face enough to nuzzle his nose against Karl’s and carefully rolled off of him. He watched Karl get up and go to the bathroom. When Karl came out, instead of coming back to bed, he reached for his underwear and trousers and pulled them on. “Where are you going?”

Karl felt around in his pockets for his keys. “I’m out of cigarettes. I have some in the office. I’ll be right back.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow and was thankful he didn’t smoke. Karl ran off on some errand after they made love or had sex nearly every time. It was a strange, new habit that Freddie couldn’t make sense of. Sighing, Freddie got out of bed and went to the toilet himself. He put his underwear back on and waited for Karl in bed. Downstairs in his dark office, Karl lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, hoping the nicotine would calm his shaking hands and trembling stomach. Freddie didn’t deserve a lover who ran away in the dark. Freddie was the sweetest, gentlest, most forbearing male lover Karl had ever had. He wasn’t surprised Rosie liked the man.


	8. Explanatory Notes

### Explanatory Notes

 _Passing—_ As far as forty-year-old Karl understands the world, the social oppression of homosexual men will never be lifted. For him, the Twenties in Berlin were a delightful aberration, and the world has returned to normal. Explaining to a much younger Freddie that he needs to learn how to pass as a heterosexual man is as normal for an older gay Karl as Karl’s father explaining to Karl that he couldn’t have sex with girls from his social class, but lower class girls were fair game. It’s just the way the world works and how a gay man survives, when seen through the social biases of a wealthy, educated, upper class man of that time.

 _Rosie Betzler’s Resistance—_ How does Rosie resist the Nazi Party? In the film she most obviously resists by hiding a Jew and leaving anti-Party messages anonymously in public. However, she also resists in more subtle ways. She doesn’t look away from the gallows. In nearly every daytime scene, Rosie is wearing trousers and makeup as opposed to the other women who are wearing dresses. She only wears one dress (the black wool dress with scarlet braid) in the entire movie, and it is only characteristic of how vibrantly chic she is. Rosie is hanged wearing trousers. 

The Nazi Party had a certain anathema toward both trousers on women and makeup. Trousers transgressed the traditional gender roles the Nazis were so desperate to enforce. Makeup espoused the modern world, a “degenerate” order, which the Nazis were adamant about rolling back. There is a really good book about Nazi fashion and the Nazi attempts to create a fashion industry in Berlin to rival Paris, Nazi Chic: Fashioning Women in the Third Reich by Irene Guenther. It didn’t work out, and the two biggest gifts to modern fashion design from the Nazi Party are Hugo Boss’ uniforms—variations of which are nearly compulsory wear for the well-dressed sci-fi bad guys, and _tracht_ —the traditional dress of _drndls_ and _lederhosen_ that is now de riguer at many fests in modern Germany, which was going out of style by the start of the Nazi era. 

_Paul Betzler—_ Rosie’s husband has a huge impact on the whole story. It’s his absence and unknown fate that helps create Imaginary Hitler. Rosie imitates Paul when she is so angry with Jojo one night. She yells at her son but in the voice and costume of Paul. She also immediately has “Paul” confess to her that he was too harsh with his son. Paul’s unknown fate tears at Jojo. He is teased about it, questioned about how it’s going with him being “the man of the house.” In a deleted scene that was part of “Fuck off Hitler,” Jojo yells at Imaginary Hitler that he already has a father, and he is coming home.

My vision of Paul Betzler is that he is an engineer, a few years older than Rosie, and after moving his family from Berlin to Falkenheim takes contracts in the 1930’s to build oil infrastructure in the Middle East. As a civil engineer familiar with Arabic culture, desert geology, and possibly even somewhat conversant in Arabic, Paul would be a prime candidate for the German efforts in North Africa. The _Deutsches Afrika Korps_ (DAK) was stood up in 1941 to assist Italian forces in North Africa and later evolved into _Heeresgruppe Afrika_ (Army Group Africa) after two other name changes. The DAK consisted of men who had previous experience in the Middle East and embarked from Naples, Italy. If Paul was in the DAK, he would have no need for a _feldgrey_ uniform and probably leave it behind. The remnants of the DAK that were able to retreat to Tunisia after losing the Second Battle of El-Alamein eventually surrendered to Allied forces in 1943 and were transported to the US as POWs.

MyRosie and Karl frequently reassure one another that “Paul is coming home.” If they believe that Paul is coming home, then their affair can remain just an affair of a lonely woman and her old lover that will naturally come to an end when there is no need for it any longer. Neither wants to think about what might happen and what choices may need to be made if Paul never comes home. Will Karl leave Rosie for the third time, or will he stay with her and leave Freddie?

As for Paul, we don’t know if he’s alive or not. In the book, Jojo’s father is taken away to Mauthausen KZ where he is shot either during or after an escape attempt. It’s left ambiguous by the characters as the records were unclear on the chain of events. In the movie, Paul has left behind a plain _feldbluse_ , the one Rosie puts on when she becomes so angry with Jojo. It’s unsewn and without shoulder boards. It may be an OCS blouse, or he may not have needed it where he was going. Rosie says Paul is away making the world a better place, and Elsa tells Jojo that Rosie told her he was abroad. Why does Rosie believe he’s working with partisans or resistance overseas? 

  * It is true. Rosie has direct, personal knowledge that Paul is alive and working against the regime.
  * It is unknown. Paul is missing in action. No one knows where he is, and Rosie has adopted this delusion to cope because it could be true. It may be in character for him, and/or it helps justify her own activities and the danger in which she is placing herself and Jojo.
  * It is false. Paul is a POW.
  * It is false. Paul is dead, and she is clinging to that hopeful delusion in order not to deal with even the idea of his death. This is a fairly dangerous option because some day the war is going to end, and Paul is not going to come home. What will she do then?
  * It is false. Paul’s fate is unknown, and Rosie is being deceived. Someone purporting to be Paul has been in communication with her somehow for whatever reason. 



However, MyRosie is adamant that until she has proof Paul is dead, he’s alive. 

Historically, if Paul were a POW, his pay would be stopped. If he were a deserter, his pay would be stopped, and the local authorities would make life as hard and unpleasant as possible for his family, to include possible incarceration in a concentration camp. At the least Rosie would be unemployable and shamed and shunned by her community unless she publicly and adamantly denounced her husband. MyPaul would never leave his wife and family to defend themselves against the Nazi regime this way, and MyRosie would never betray her husband that way. If Paul were MIA, his pay would be stopped. German soldiers had to be physically present to receive pay unless the equivalent of embezzlement were taking place. In an organization as large as the Wehrmacht and as corrupt as Nazi Germany, there were ways to slip 200 RM a month to someone. MyRosie is still getting his pay, so she insists to herself that Paul is alive.


End file.
